


Reap What is Sown

by thetransgirlwhoneverwas



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: DWFicExchange, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 15:41:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19976491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetransgirlwhoneverwas/pseuds/thetransgirlwhoneverwas
Summary: War presents opportunity, but none can predict the results of one's actions in a Time War.





	Reap What is Sown

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



It’s a little-known fact that sound does not travel in the Time Vortex, but anyone watching would have insisted they could hear what was happening as a small, battered-looking blue box spun through the Time Maelstrom, twisting this way and that, pushing itself against the edges of the unstable Vortex tunnel and straining against the winds of Time as it dodged and weaved between the endless hail of shots screaming past as a fleet of Dalek battleships screamed through after it. The outdated, outnumbered, outgunned Type 40 swerved and rolled and moved every which direction away from the barrage, and every which way it moved there was only more destruction to avoid.  
Inside the blue box stood a man at the controls, not dressed for battle but carrying the unmistakable character of a warrior who had fighting far too long, and yet whose fight was not nearly over. His tired eyes blazed with concentration as he leaped around the console with a nimbleness unbefitting his apparent age, tapping buttons and pulling levers and muttering words of fierce encouragement to the machine he piloted, whose central column pulsed up and down at a hypnotising speed.  
“It’s working, old girl, just stay with me,” he growled supportively as his fingers danced over controls he knew instinctively.  
The TARDIS scraped against the edge of the Time Maelstrom, pulling away a fraction of an instant before a Dalek blast impacted, the resulting splash of temporal energy hitting the TARDIS, which groaned, but some of the energy stayed floating around it.  
The Daleks continued to fire, an almost infinite stream of energy weapons tearing through the Vortex, and not a single blast hit the tiny box staying just out of their reach, pulling back as if to taunt them into continuing the chase, but springing forward to avoid the claws of destruction stretching out to consume it.  
The pilot, in the moments between controlling his craft between the fire, reached out and turned a knob on a device sitting just within his reach, which emitted several bursts of static before switching to the screeching tones of a Dalek.  
“-EEK! LOCATE! DESTROY! ALL CRAFT PURSUE THE DOCTOR’S TARDIS! HE MUST NOT BE ALLOWED TO ESCAPE! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINA-” he turned the volume down to a background level, irritably mumbling “that is not my name anymore,” to himself.  
Avoiding blasts and staying as close to the edges of the Vortex as the pilot dared, the TARDIS gathered more and more temporal energy until it glowed with an aura that threatened to breach inside. Indeed, the man inside stole a glance towards the door and saw the glow beginning to encroach inside the TARDIS. When the Cloister Bell started to sound, barely audible over the cacophony of other alarms, system whirs, and groans as the craft began to sound like it wanted to fall apart, he decided that was enough.  
The TARDIS stopped dead, and a good number of Dalek ships overshot it instantly, but before they had a chance to redirect their fire and annihilate the ship, it started again, keeping pace with the Daleks, making one last pass around the edges of the Vortex tunnel to gather as much energy as it could before speeding to the command ship in the direct centre of the Dalek fleet, the energy now fizzing and spurting out.  
“EMERGENCY! EMERGENCY! ALL DALEK CRAFT RETREAT TO SAFE DISTANCE! ALL DALEK CRAF-AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-!”  
Too late they realised: the TARDIS spun, flipped over, and crashed into the side of the Dalek command ship, the collected temporal energy exploding outwards. Three hundred Dalek warships were impacted by a pulse of Time itself and spun out of control. Some were destroyed by their own fire; others ejected from the Vortex, falling broken into random timespace locations; some fell into time whirlpools and both the ships and the Dalek occupants aged, rusted, broke apart and disintegrated in the blink of an eye. No more than thirty seconds after the temporal energy had been released by the faltering but still spinning TARDIS, the entire Dalek Battle Fleet that had pursued it across time and space itself was gone, the only evidence left that it was ever there was the occasional piece of bronze flotsam, already attracting Vortisaurs.  
The old man breathed a sigh of relief that lasted for eternity and yet not near long enough, as his adrenaline wore off and he felt the centuries of age return to him. He patted the console a few times, whispering “thank you, old girl, thank you” for as long as he could stand before collapsing into a chair. The central column still rose and fell but it was in random fits and starts, like a CD player skipping seconds here and there. The Cloister Bell had stopped ringing eventually, but the craft had not stopped groaning. He sat in the chair and let the War wash over him, but only for a few seconds, as another alarm sounded.  
He growled, and checked the monitor. Another Dalek fleet approaching, much smaller, probably checking why the large fleet had been destroyed. They hadn’t detected him yet, but the TARDIS didn’t have the energy to outrun or fight them, and neither did he. With no time to think, he made a snap decision and pulled a lever. The TARDIS dropped out of the Time Vortex where it was, and the Time Lord hoped that he would land in a hospitable location. There was not much else he could do.  
The TARDIS fell. Through time and space and void and nothingness, for an endless instant, before landing somewhere entirely random. The pilot hoped briefly it was somewhere away from the War, but dismissed this hope instantly. Nowhere was safe from the War. Everywhere was engulfed eventually.  
He took a deep breath, and stepped out into similar surroundings to what he had just left. A ship, clearly advanced technology, but just as clearly used for war. He supposed the War must have been raging here for a while. The ship’s interior, even here in what appeared to be a cargo deck, looked battered and lived-in, as if it hadn’t been repaired in years. Everything seemed stable, safe, but there were cracks in the walls, mold growing in the corners, scratches and stains littered the floor where cargo had been dragged across it over years and years.  
The Time Lord looked back at the TARDIS, and saw that behind it stood a huge observation window, through which he could see a planet below. Walking closer, he examined it: no signs of war. No widespread destruction. In fact, most of the planet seemed green and lush, with the exception of a couple of grey circles of development, huge enough to see from space. Moving closer still towards the window, he saw the ship he was on was not alone: the planet’s orbit was saturated with spaceships hanging above the world. They all looked like the one he was on: highly advanced, but worn and used, but outside he could see the ones close to him at least, and he presumed all of the others too, were outfitted with huge and incredibly destructive looking weapons.  
The door to the cargo bay opened suddenly, and the man retreated from the window and hid behind his TARDIS.  
“There’s no use hiding, Time Lord!” came a voice from the door, accompanied by the clicking and humming of several energy weapons being loaded and prepared. “You and your craft were detected the second you fell out of the Time Vortex!”  
Deciding there was no point trying to hide, the man emerged from behind the blue box, arms raised in submission. “You know about Time Lords?” he asked.  
“Of course we know about you,” the leader of the group responded. “Everyone knows about you and the War, and we Yilex have been watching your species for some time.”  
The man examined the creatures. Their tall, bulky frames showed off a clear strength and fortitude, but their long fingers, compact armour and enormous energy weapons displayed impressive technological capabilities, and if the man hadn’t understood evolution better, he’d have said that their grey skin and huge jaws seemed specifically developed for intimidation.  
The Yilex wasn’t a species he’d encountered before, or even heard of, but clearly they were highly advanced. He wondered why they’d escaped scrutiny for so long. Even before the War, the Time Lords were never ones to ignore the development of species they may one day consider threats, and to Time Lords, that was every species that developed past the discovery of fire.  
Not wanting to start a fight or get involved in any sort of trouble, he started to retreat. “I’m sorry for intruding without permission. If you let me go back to my ship, I’ll leave you in peace, I mean no harm or offense.”  
The seven Yilex he counted all trained their guns on him simultaneously and he stopped. Clearly, they didn’t want him gone.  
“Oh, no, you’re not going anywhere, Time Lord,” the leader mocked. “You’re going to help us, and we’re not taking ‘no’ for an answer.”  
“I warn you,” the Time Lord’s voice dropped into a low tone. “I don’t help people who threaten me, and I am not someone you want as an enemy. I’ve had quite enough trouble today, so let me leave in peace before you regret it.”  
The group were silent for a few seconds, then burst into raucous laughter. The Time Lord’s eyebrows narrowed further, and he lowered his hands out of his gesture of surrender.  
“You can’t threaten us, Time Lord!” the leader spat the title at him. “We have you at our mercy! With the technology from your TARDIS, we will lead our fleet into our glorious War!”  
“You want to get involved in the Time War?” the pilot asked, anger receding back slightly to make room for incredulity. “Why in the universe would you want to bring ruin to your species?”  
“The War will not bring ruin, it will bring glory!” the leader proclaimed to the cheers of his crew. “It’s what we Yilex have always desired!”  
The Time Lord said nothing, but raised a single eyebrow, and allowed the leader to continue ranting.  
“Our entire civilisation, we’ve always loved the beauty of war, of defeating our enemies and the spoils of victory! We’ve made amazing weapons, incredible ships, we’ve made ourselves into a race of perfect warriors!”  
“And yet,” the man questioned, “I’ve never heard of you.”  
“Quiet!” the leader demanded. “Even though we have made ourselves perfect, we were always denied our conquest! Those groups who thought they deserved authority over the universe, the Time Lords, the Shadow Proclamation, they’ve always kept us down! Forced us into hiding ourselves away in war against war against ourselves, with nobody else to fight!”  
“And yet,” the man repeated, “I’ve never heard of you.”  
“I said quiet!”  
“I am a Time Lord, and I’ve worked closely with the Shadow Proclamation before, and none of us have heard of you.”  
“You will be silent!”  
“You’ve never actually met them, have you? You were just too afraid of them to ever venture outside your little world.”  
“SILENCE!” the leader roared, stepping forward and pointing his gun towards his captive. “The Time Lords and the Proclamation have no authority anymore! The universe is embroiled in war, and they can’t stop us anymore! We will go out! We will conquer! We will have our triumph!”  
The rest of his group cheered again.  
“That’s it? That’s the only reason?” the Time Lord asked, anger and disgust rising again. “You’re going to go out, bring devastation to your people, and use your impressive technology to kill trillions...simply because there’s nobody to stop you?”  
“Victory is it’s own reward, Time Lord!” the leader responded. “That is the way of our people! Why should we not use our weapons to bring ourselves glory?”  
“But there’s no point to it!” he exclaimed. “You’re not trying to gain resources, you’re not trying to find anything for yourselves. At least the Daleks have some quest, horrific as it is, but you! You want to destroy everything you can, simply to prove that you can!”  
“I am not surprised you do not understand, Time Lord,” the leader replied, triumphant tone replaced with condescension. “You Time Lords have always avoided involving yourselves in anything but your own interests! But now, your TARDIS will give us access to the reaches of time, and we will use it to make a name for ourselves in the universe! And all will fear us! They will know the name of the world Soek, and they will know the name Yilex forever!”  
A third round of cheers erupted from his group, but the Time Lord refused to be cowled.  
“You will never have my TARDIS,” he practically snarled at them. “You will never be involved in the war. I hadn’t heard of the Yilex before, but I know the world Soek.”  
“There is nothing you can do to stop us, Time Lord,” the leader in turn refused to be intimidated. “We will take what we need, and you will die her-”.  
He was interrupted by the ship starting to rumble and vibrate, as a bright red glow slowly started to illuminate the cargo bay from outside. The leader looked out of the observation window, and his disposition changed completely.  
“Is that...no, no, it can’t be, how?”  
The rest of the group looked out of the window to see a gigantuan asteroid hurtling towards the planet. As it got closer it became recognisable: an immense mass of debris from a Dalek warship, drifting out of the Vortex, heading directly for a collision with Soek.  
“Would the destruction of your world stop your dreams of conquest?” the Time Lord asked cooly.  
“Stop!” the leader begged. “All of our warriors are on the ships in orbit! The only ones of us left on the planet are the old and the children!”  
“Can your weapons not stop it?” the man asked, still entirely calm.  
“Not this soon! We don’t have enough time!” the leader continued to beg, as he realised just how little control of the situation he suddenly had, before questioning if he had ever had control. “You! You’re a Time Lord! You can go back! You can stop this! Please! My people! Our children!”  
“I can’t stop it any more than you can,” he replied. “It’s already happened.”  
“No!” the leader called one more time, as he watched the asteroid collide with the planet.  
“No…” he called out again weakly, as he saw the meteorite reduce the surface of the planet to flame and devastation, the core erupt, and his home break apart, as the ships continued to hang just outside of range in the orbit of a planet that suddenly ceased to exist.  
The leader turned and fired on the Time Lord, energy blasts exploding from the barrel of his weapon and reflect harmlessly off of the force field projected from the blue box he was standing in front of. He continued to attack fruitlessly for some time before his weapon lost power, and he sank to his knees.  
“Was it you?” he asked finally, his voice quiet and broken. “Did you cause it? Or did you just refuse to stop it?”  
The Time Lord didn’t respond. He simply stared at the leader.  
“What do we do now?” the leader asked again.  
“You rebuild,” the man responded. “Your planet is gone. Your technology is gone. Your children are gone. You are the last ones left.”  
“But we are all warriors,” the Yilex leader was despondent. “We don’t know how to rebuild. We don’t know how to do anything but fight.”  
“Then you learn,” the Time Lord displayed no pity or mercy. “You have but one chance left now. Your only option is to reform yourselves. Find somewhere new to live and make a life for yourselves. Forget conquest. Forget war. Or history will forget you.”  
He said nothing else, but walked around the box and entered. Seconds later, the Yilex watched as the craft departed, wheezing and groaning as it slowly faded from sight.


End file.
